Forme of Respect
by Flower-on-a-box
Summary: "The hippogriff watched him few more instants. He didn't know him so much, this human, but he just showed him respect and it meant a lot." Translated from "Une forme de respect"


"Where is Buck?" A loud voice thundered between the walls of the Square Grimmaurd

"Sirius? But... What are you doing here?" Harry had red and puffy eyes and his voice sound very surprised.

And then, the men explained how he managed to escape from the Diagon Alley in ruin. His brow bone was covered by dry blood and the completeness of the right side of his face was hidden behind multiple scratches. His hair, tainted in salt and pepper, were matted in dust and little pieces of concrete. He was limping, his clothes were covered with blood, flowing from his shoulder. It had opened when a section of wall had fallen, which had made him disappear under the rubble.

It had been three days they were fighting in the streets of the Diagon Alley, a static warfare with violent spells of explosion that were destroying everything on their way. The shops didn't exist any more, the Order was hiding in the remains of the Weasley twins' store, struggling against the Death Eaters.

"I thought... We thought you were dead and the wall collapsed" Harry said throwing himself on his neck, and wept. "We tried to take the debris off, but there was only blood, and the Death Eaters attacked again, we had no alternative but to retreat."

"Where is my Buck" Sirius sound desperate.

"When we came back here, he looked after you. But you weren't here so he left. I thought he came after you. But don't worry, I'm sure he will be back soon".

Sirius just let himself fall on a chair and deeply breath. Molly was busy around him to clean up his wounds and his shoulder, which was damning painful he now realized, he could not help but think of his winged companion who was somewhere over London while the Death Eaters roamed everywhere.

.

The hippogriff was flying over the city, the heavy air of the battlefield in his feathers. The wizarding London was deserted while dawn did not even show its iridescent colours, the only light that pierced the black came from the high flames that rose from the remains of the Leaky Cauldron.

Buck landed in the destroyed street. The floor was covered by rubble, the still standing walls were dirty, full of impacts from the spells that had rocketed during the night. The Diagon Alley didn't exist anymore. Only the bank Gringotts, hardly intact, rose like an immense black shape that gauged the rests of an immutable, immortal, but broken symbol.

But above all, there were the corpses. Bruised bodies, buried under the buildings, an arm, a leg appeared here and there. There wasn't much blood, only dust over the ruins, as if the past fight was already old of a century. And the silence. Not a sound came from the most popular place of the neighbourhood. The night had been a complete slaughter, people had managed to run away, but many had died. In a single night, more than twenty death in both sides of the war. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, they never knew such a bloodshed in this endless war.

Buck's cry echoed in the abysses of night. He walked along the pile of concrete, he could see placards, books, pieces of furniture in it, his hooves slamming in the heavy air. When he arrived a few meters before the burning ruins of the Leaky Cauldron, a piece of wall section moved and slide in the middle of the street. The animal came closer, wary. A tiny light emanated from a wand pointed toward the sky. When the rest of the body came out the rubble, the hippogriff reared, ready to attack.

The hair wasn't blond anymore, but grey, dull and dusty, stoked to the face with sweat and blood. Alabaster skin damaged, scratched, streaked by nicks. He took a few steps, stumbling over the debris that had buried him, and jumped at the sight of the animal threatening him. That upper body drew a stifled groan of pain and he put his hand to his side. Under his torn suit, his shirt was covered with a large reddish spot.

Into the red flesh were swimming mud, concrete, dust. The sticky blood and greasy flowed between his fingers pressed against the wide wound. So much blood he had dizziness. Slowly, colours were leaving the fragile skin. After few steps, his legs were shaking on the dark pavement of the driveway, but he stopped in front of the angry hippogriff.

His gold-yellowed eyes stared at him severely. Buck remembered. Oh yes, he remembered this ridiculous human being who despised him years earlier. And he knew he wasn't a member of the Order. What should have he done? Attack him? He was emptying himself on the floor, a pale face, he was going to die anyway. The hate in the animal's eyes flew away and gave way to a sort of indifferent contempt. He was about to turn away and leave the place before changing his mind.

The stupid man made one more step in his direction, a trickle of blood drew a slight line from his mouse to his chin. He started to lean forward, the fell of his wand resound. He bowed more. Buck emitted a little cry with his front paws clawing the ground, thus communicating his disapproval. But there he was, Draco Malfoy fell on his kneels and then collapsed definitively against the cobblestones, the frail body, only animated by his breathing, which was becoming weaker and weaker.

The hippogriff watched him few more instants. He didn't know him so much, this human, but he just showed him respect and it meant a lot. Maybe he was only doing this to obtain some help, only a hope of salvation. Maybe he was a human who was imbued with his person, who was fighting in the ranks of the worst man the wizarding world had known, but what could he do here on this battlefield, in a pool of blood?

When he felt the cold hair, Draco partially opened his eyes one last time. The dawn was coming on the horizon, warm colours burning the sky. The wizard suddenly understood he was a hundred meters in the air, lying on something soft. He was probably dead, on his way to the pantheon of his family. He should go to Hell, he thought. He looked again the sun, red, rising, printing the image in his mind as the last he would ever see.

.

"Hermione, this guy is a knob and a spoiled child. He's a Death Eater, we should let him rot."

"I agree with Hermione. If Buck took him back here, he had a reason."

"Seriously, the only reason why we should cure him it's to kill him again, he's Malfoy after all!"

"Shut up everyone! Stop talking like that. He is a human being, maybe an asshole and yes, I hate him too, but he doesn't deserve to empty his blood in the garden."

Silence.

"Why is he in the garden?"

"Well... Because nobody went to get him."

"Go yourself."

"All alone I won't be able to take him, that's why I asked the boys, but you have to talk for hours with them. And in the meantime, Malfoy rots his head in the grass."

"Good, well, I'll go."

"You are no longer my brother. And you are no longer my best friend! You deal with the enemy!"

"Shut up a little bit."

Silence.

"He's breathing! Come on!"


End file.
